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Стр. 25 - For while she makes her silk-worms beds, With all the tender things, I swear, Whilst all the house my passion reads, In papers round her baby's hair. She may receive and own my flame, For though the strictest prudes should know it, She'll pass for a most virtuous dame, And I for an unhappy poet.

Стр. 40 - Both studied, though both seem neglected ; Careless she is with artful care, Affecting to seem unaffected. " With skill her eyes dart every glance, Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect them ; For she'd persuade they wound by chance, Though certain aim and art direct them. " She likes herself, yet others hates For that which in herself she prizes ; And, while she laughs at them, forgets She is the thing that she despises.

Стр. 126 - Breathes on his aching fists in vain, And dooms me to a place more hot. He sees me in to supper go, A silken wonder by my side, Bare arms, bare shoulders, and a row Of flounces, for the door too wide. He thinks how happy is my arm 'Neath its white-gloved and jewelled...

Стр. 116 - Frank. If I were you, who vow you cannot suffer Whiff of the best, the mildest " honey-dew," I would not dance with smoke-consuming Puffer, If I were you! Nellie. If I were you, I would not, sir, be bitter, Even to write the Cynical Review : — Frank. No, I should doubtless find flirtation fitter, If I were you ! Nellie.

Стр. xvii - FOLLOW a shadow, it still flies you, Seem to fly it, it will pursue. So court a mistress, she denies you, Let her alone, she will court you. Say are not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us men ? At morn and even shades are longest, At noon they are or short or none. So men at weakest, they are strongest, But grant us perfect, they're not known. Say are not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us men...

Стр. 100 - Lieutenant of the County. But titles, and the three per cents., And mortgages, and great relations, And India bonds, and tithes, and rents, Oh what are they to love's sensations? Black eyes, fair forehead, clustering locks Such wealth, such honours, Cupid chooses He cares as little for the Stocks, As Baron Rothschild for the Muses.

Стр. 36 - Your pinners set right, your twitcher tied on, Your prayers at an end, and your breakfast quite done, Retire to some author improving and gay, And with sense like your own, set your mind for the day. At twelve you may walk, for at this time...